Monmouthshire Merlin

.0 IFIIE BOY SUICIDE A TALE OF YESTERDAY. BY J. HAY D BBIT. '"I don't think a better mother than mine ever Jived, if she pad fair plav.' 'lie (the father) has a cnpboard with a pad- '°Ck on it; if a bit of bread is left, lie locks it away from us In December last the boy robbed his miserly father of hoarded goid, was tried (his own father being the principal Witness) and sentenced to ten years penal servitude; a lew hours Afterwards, on his return to prison, he ended his miserable bv hanging himself."—Ft em the Iteport, o* the lie,v. S. C. ^ker, Chaplain to the I'sh House oj Gorrectimi. The prison cell was dull, and dark, and drear Wherein the boy, but man in crime, lay bound, \Vithout one hope his future life to cheel", WhIle deathlike darkness closed him all around. And yet his mother lov'd him !—oh, bow strong A mother's !ove is, e'en in roughest mood!- And with that love had sought to ween from wrong Her young boy's heart, and make it choose the good. Yet was it all too weak her son to save Night saw him sink into an unblest grave Perchance thou mother dear, his latest thought Turn'd to that homo where first his life bogau, Perchance he wept for counsels set at naught, That, rightly taught, might make the perfect man. Perchance in that dark hour his spirit yearn d With trustful hope to solve Deat: s mystery- To realise the tale from thy hps learn d. b Of peace in dea'h, while bending at thy knee. But who can tell how fares it with him now? Hope strives 'gainst hope-bow, wretched mother, bow! Stand forth, thou man that called (his boy thy son Thou man unmanned — thou worse than beast 01 prey "Carst for that death, while life was but begun, Give answer, iae the deed,' aud_b->ldl\ sa) That in his tender years thou didst withhold His life's subsistence— bread—of li!e the whole That thou hast iiv'd to prize thy cursed gold Beyond thy oHspring's weal in heart—in soul: Yet so it is: thv influence clouded all The mother's love thou thing unnatural! Go mourn thy childless lot in nnshar'd woe, Thou who God's image basely hath defil d It Could not be such wretch as thou shouldst know parent's bliss to love a loving child. Go, hide thyself;—onrocks and mountains call, In vain to shield thee from impending fate; The avenging arm is raised—is sure to tall— 1 he3avengin arm that never strikes too late For He whose holy laws thou hast defied tihall judge on thee thy young boy's suicide! -Bristol Gazette.

SIR. MARMADUKE POLE. Sir Marmaduke Pole was a sturdy old knight, >ho in war and in peace had done every wan right; 110 lived with his neighbours in loving accord, 8ate the Abbot and Monks, whom he fiercely abhorr <1, This rough old Sir Marmaduke Pole. He gat Hkp a king in his old castle-hall, Jilh guests round his table, and servants at call; Whoop'd to the falcon, he hunted the deer,- lf down by the Abbey, bis comrades could hear A growl from Sir Marwuduiie 1 o,e. o- Sir Marmaduke lay on his leave-taliing bed nd he smiled on the mourners, and tianquilij said, Ti '-an rust in)' poor soul to the Lord God ot Heav'n, ^QUgh living unpriested. and dying uns^liv n Say goodbye to old Marmaduke roie. JiUt s Lady aud others do sorely repine He thus should decease like an ox or a swine. A message in haste to the Abbey they send; *°r there's frost on the tongue, and the arm cannot bend, Of sturdy Sir Marmaduke Pole. §4J8 my Lady, Too long have I yielded my mind." {jays Kichard, To go with the world I'm inclined.' Mother of Mercy sobs Jane his young spouse, 0 Saviour, thou wert not disown'd in this house And she prays for Sir Marmaduke Pole. Good Abbot Ambrosius forgets every wrong An.) j ,I,P M;e which repell d him so long. stair t Pax vobiscum !") is strange to his tread. Ss evenone forth There s no voice from the bed Of quiet Sir Marmaduke i • ihev enter the place. the dooi p jjes t;,u well-belov'd face. iTkicfiiebVreiwiiUod'" me'°y ■ndb!fs™d S*int Joh°' «0 parted Sir Marmaduke Pole. $ho feasts with Sir Kichard ? W ho sunves Lady Jane ? Mose muleto the Castle jogs right without rem ? ^Ur Abhpv has moorland and meadowland M1dt, 5»K™s;ou d 1" This headstrong Sir Marinade oie. i* the chancel they buried Sir Marmaduke I ole; T'ld sung many masses for good ol his so ^•fiidst praying and chiming, and incense and ^i8 bones fell to dust. You may still read his name, In blurr'd letters-~iv jflarmatmfce$aie. "■•4then<eum.

VARIETIES. When Voltaire wrote his tragedy of Merope, he called servant one morning at three o'clock, and gave him some verses to carry immediately to the Steur Panlin, who was to perform the tyrant. His man alleged that fc Wasthe hour of sleep, and that the actor might not iCtot. disturbed.( "Wo, I "plied Voltaire, tyrants never sleep." A Western editor requests those of his subscribers who °*e him more than six years' subscription, to send him lis of hair, that he may know they are still living. Jo which the Lawrenceburgh (Indiana) If all our subscribers ot that kind would do that^ we 00tild make money by carrying on the wig business. A thriving trader in Wisconsin, claiming the paternity Of eleven daughters, greatly to the astonishment of his ^ijrhbours, succeeded in marrying them all off in six Months. A neighbour of his, who had likewise several ngle daughters, called upon him to obtain the secret of husband-obtaining success, when the latter iniornjed he had made it a rule, alter a young man had paid h,s Mention to one of his girls a fortnight, to call upon him >ith a revolver, and request him to choose between tn a rev > "You can imagine, continued ?Hth ana matrimony. XKJX* ? r' V" Which of the two they preferred, -[rhw plan is *ot generally recommended, as tne alternative of the IIlatol might be chosen in some cases.] It is a musical fact, that every-orchestra contains at W two musicians with moustaches, one in spectacles, »W with bald heads, and one very modest man in a Hite cravat, who, from force of circumstances, you will Observe, plays on a brass instrument. A PRECOCIOUS YOUTH.-WC were rusticating a fevv *Uya since at a farm house, saya a Western editor, and .ited a young lady to favour us with a tune on the J'Uno Her music-book being in an adjoining room, hei Mother a voung gent of some fourteen summers, was 4quested to go for it. After the lapse of a few moments {*« returned and placed an egg on the music stand, vn what that was for, he replied that it was the lay of the last minstrel," and that the composer was ( &ging in honour of her production in the fowl-house, next train brought us home intensely exhausted. A quiet, elderly gentleman, found himself one of four travellers in a railway carriage. The other three were ladies, who talked from the beginning to the end of the journey, kept up, in fact, so lengthened a conversation that it was exactly two hundred miles long. When nearly at the terminus, the most voluble of the ladies expressed a hope to the gentleman that the incessant colloquy had not disturbed him ? By no means, madam," he said politely, I have been married exactly five-and-thirty years." A well-known physician in a certain town is very much annoyed by an old lady, who is always sure to accost him in the street for the purpose of telling over her ailments. Once she met him :ts he was iti a great hurry. "Ah! I see you are quite feeble," said the doctor; "shut your eyes and show me your tongue." She obeyed and the doctor, quietly moving off, left her standing in this ridiculous position, to the infinite amuse- ment of all who witnessed the funny scene. Mother, I shouldn't be surprised if our Susan got choked some day." Why, my son ?" Because her beau twisted his arms around her neck the other night, and if she bad not kissed him to lot her go, he would have strangled her." SINGULAR BUT TRUE.—" It is our opinion," says a contemporary, "that if a number of gentlemen are sitting together, talking sensibly upon some sensible subject, and a lady enters, they immediately commence talking foolishly, and keep it up until she makes her exit." Robert Hall did not lose his power of retort even iu madness. A hypocritical condoler with his misfortunes once visited him in the madhouse, and said, in a whining tone, What brought you here, Mr. Lla Hall &ig- ficantly touched his brow with his finger, and replied, What'lf never bring you, sir—too much brain." A gentleman rode up to a public-house in the country and asked, Who is the master of this house ?" I am, sir," replied the landlord, my wife has been dead about three weeks." I don't believe it is any use to vaccinate," said a bickwoods Kentuckian, for I had a child vaccinated, and he fell out of a window and was killed in less than a week after." A pedantic fello íV called for a bottle of hock at a tavern, which the waiter not hearing distinctly, asked him to repeat. "A bottle of hock—hie—hue;:—hoc," replied the visitor. After sitting, however, for a long time, and no hock appearing, he ventured to ring again, and inquire into the cause of the delay. Did I not order some hock, sir? Why is it not brought in Because," answered the waiter, who had bem taught Latm grammar, yon afterwards declined it." TALLEYRAND'S CUNNING.—A lady who professed to be charmed with Talleyrand's wit, begged of him to wnte his name in her album. His gallantry could not refuse, and he began to write a verse. "Arretez Monseigneur!" cxclaimed the lady, it may be very well for inferior persons to write verses, but the name of Talleyrand is enough to appear in my book. It is fame." He fixed his keen eyes on the supplicating fair one, and wrote his name at the very top of the page. Tho anec- dote spread, and all Vaiis laughed at the happy evasion of perhaps seeing his name in a few days signed to a bill of 10,000 francs What are you going to give mo for a Christmas present ?" asked a gay damsel of her lover. I have nothing to give but my humble self," was the reply. The smallest favours gratefully received," was the merry response of the lady. COMPLIMENTARY TO THE LAST.—Sheridm was once out shooting with an Irish servant, and, being a bad shot, missed his birds frequently. The attendant, however, managed to compliment him on every shot thus :-Sliot the 1st (the birds all getting away)—" More power to your honour! Did you see one little fellow dlop ha leg as ho went oil ? lie'il never stand o.i bis tin tots i.gain." Shot 2nd (ditto)—" Tare an' agers, there they go lh¡t didn't your honour hear the shot rattle among them liko ^pae.t> agin a windoy ? Xhey'll jxray n. [aaee your houour again on this side of the country." Shot 3rd (birds all off again)-" Thunder an' 'ounds But they've eotched it!" (After watching them awhile)—"There's three wounded any how, for they had hardly stringth to fly over yonder hedge. The divil a wink of sleep they'll get this blessed night." Shot 4th (a pheasant geLs away)- 11 Well, I never seen a poor gentleman taken like him he'l! remember your honour many a long diy for that. The spalpeen is carrying away more shot than would sit up an ironmonger at Skibbereen." Shot 5th (a Stupe gets off)-" Botiier You may cry crake, my fine fellow-you may take your long bill to the other world. You'll wake to-morrow morning with a lumbago in your soft head." Poor Sheridan couid stand this no longer, but gave his countryman a fee for his ingenuity, and pro- ceeded on his beat alorio. THE LATE SIll WlLLIAAt FOLLFTL"S OPINION OF FREEMASONRY.—The future Attorney-General had been for many months called to the bar, when we again met. This was early in 1826. He then spoke calmly, but feelingly, of the professional jealousy which existed amongst those by whom he was now affiliated. Players' rivalry," said he, "is a joke to it. You can have no conception of its extent or strength, unless you yourself belong to the profession." He then reverted to past scents and mutual friends; and, in the course of con- versation, I inferred, from a passing remark, that he had become a Freemason. I asked him if my conclusion was correct? "It is," was his reply. "I was initiated at Cambridge." Light had not then beamed upon myself, and I expressed in scoffing terms my astonishment. "In your early struggles at the bar," remarked he, in quiet earnestness, 1, you require something to reconcile you to your kind you see so much bitterness, and rivalry, and jealousy, and hatted, that you are thankful to call into active airency a system which creates, in all its varieties, kindly sympathy, cordial and wide-spread benevolence, and brotherly love." But surely," says I, "you don't mean to tell me that Masonry does all this?" "And more The true mason thinks no evil of his brother, and cherishes no designs against him. The system itself annihilates parties: and as to censoriousness and calumny, most salutary and stringent is the curb which masonic principle, duly carriedout, appliestoanunbudled tongue." Well, well you cannot connect it with religion you cannot, say or do as you will, atfirm of it that Masonry is a religious system." "By and bye you will know better," was the reply. "Now I will only say this that the Libit; is never closed in a mason's lodge that masons habituaUy use prayer iu their lodges, and, in point ot fact, never assemble for any purpose without performing acts of religion. I gave yotr credit," con- tinued he, witli n smile, "for being more thoroughly emancipated from nursery trammels and slavish pre- j urlices." -Stray Leaves from a Free-matoris Nole-boolc. JUNIUS.—-1 here is news about J unius." Mr. Parkes —Joseph f Birmingham-a very well-read man and a scholsy, wIth advantages which few have possessed, is to give us, before six months are over, a "Life of Sir Philip Francis, the Junius" of Macaulay and Broug- ham, but not the "Junius" of Mr. Dilke. Mr. Parkes possesses all the papers of Mr. Dubois, the secretarv of Francis and the executor of Tom Hill. Surely Tom Hill must have "happened" to know who Junius was ?-lUus- trated News. Tim SOVEREIGN OF GREAT BRITAIN AND THE PRE- ROGATIVE OF THE CROWN.—There is no difference be- tween the power exercised by a king and a queen in this country. The office is hereditary, passing upon their deaths to the next lieir-piales in the next degree of re- lationship, being preferred to females ihus tho youngest son of the present sovereign would inherit the Throne to the exclusion of her eldest daughter, but any daughter would stand in the order of succession befoie an uncle, a nephew, or a male cousin. The crown of these king- doms can only be worn by a Protestant should the king and queen, as such, or when they are heir-apparent IlIllrry a Human CatuuJic, it is forfeited from that mo- ment. The person of the sovcieign is sacred she is above the law; no Act of IJorJiümcut Clln bind hot, unless it contains express words to that efLct. It is also a maxim that she can do no wrong. She is the supreme head of the Church, the Army, and the Navy. She has the power of declaring war, and making peace, of arranging peace, of arranging treaties, and coining money for the use of her subjects, and of sending and re- ceiving ambassadors. She may refuse her assont to laws passed by the two Houses of Parliament but this right has not beci exercised by any sovereign since the reign of Queen Anne. These stid other rights are called the Prerogative of the Crown. Under Our Constitution, the Sovereign must govern through her ministers who are responsible to Parliament and the country for her po- litical acts. The royal consort has, as such, no share in the government of the country, but may be appointed to fill any post in the State that a subject can hold. How wi are Governed," by Albany Fonblanque,

THE IMPORTANCE OF TIDINESS. (From Preiser's Magazine.) No fire that ever blazed, no kettle that ever simmered, no sugar-plums that ever corroded the teeth and soothed to tranquil stupidity, could do half so much to maintain a human being in a condition of moderate jollity and satisfaction, as a daily resolute carrying out of the resolution, that everything about us—our house, our wardrobe, our books, our papers, our study-table, our garden-walks, our carriage, our harness, our park- fcnces, our children, our lamps, our gloves, yea, our walking-stick and our umbrella, shall be in perfect ac- curate order; that is, shall be, to a hair's breadth, right. If you, my reader, get up in the morning, as you are very likely to do, in this age of late dinners, somewhat out of spirits, and feeling (as boys expressively phrase it), rather down in the month, you cannot tell why; if you take your bath and dress, having still the feeling as if the day had come too soon, before you had gathered up heart to face it ani its duties and troubles and if, on coming down stairs, you find your breakfast parlour all in the highest degree snug and tidy,-the fire blazing brightly and warmly, the fire-irons accurately arranged, the hearth clean, the carpet swept, tbe chairs dusted, the breakfast equipage neatly arranged on a snow white clotfl-it is perfectly wonderful how all this will brighten you up. You would feel that you would be a growling humbug if you did not become thankful and content. Order is Heaven's first law and there is a sensible pleasure attending the carrying of it faithfully out to the very smallest things. Tidiness is nothing else than carrying into the hundreds of little matters which meet us and touch us hour by hour, the same grand principle which directs the sublimest magnitudes and affairs of the universe. Tidiness is, in short, the being right in thousands of small coucerns, in which most men are slovenly satisfied to be wrong. And though a hair's breadth may make the difference between right and wrong, the difference between right and wrong is not a little difference. An untidy person is a person who is wrong, and is doing wrong, for several hours every day, and though the wrong may not be grave enough to be indicated by a power solemn as conscience (as the cur- rent through the Atlantic cable, though a magnetic cur- rent, is too faint to be indicated by the machines now iu use), still constant in wrong-doing, in however slight a degree, caunot be without a jar of the entire moral nature. It cannot be without putting us out of har- mony with the entire economy under which we live. And thus it is that the most particular old bachelor, or the most precise old maid, who insists upon everything about tho house being in perfect order, is, in so far, co- operating with the great plan of Providence and, like every one who does so, finds an innocent pleasure result from that unintended harmony. Tidiness is a great source of cheerfulness. It is cheering, 1 have said even to como into one's breakfast-room, and find it spot- lessly t i dy but still more certainly will this cheerful- collie. if the tidiness is the resuit of our own exer- tion. And so I counsel you, my friend, if you are ever disheartened about soaie cxunple which has been pressed upon you of the e-,it miiieli there is in this world if you get vexed and worried and depressed about some evil in the government of your country, or of your county, or of your parish if you have done ali you can to think how tne evil may be remedied and if you knew that further brooding over the subject would only vex and sting and do no good if all this should ever be so, then 1 counsel you to have resort to the great i ef nge ot I idiness. Don't sit over your library lire brooding and bothering don't fly to sugar-plums, they will not avail. There is a corner of one of your fields that is grown up with nettles there is a bit of wail or ot IC\I!sade tI¡at IS out ot re¡'til' there is a J"al'd of the edging of a shrubbery walk where all overhanging laurel has kided the turf there is a bed in the garden whjch is not serupulously tidy as it ought to ue; tllere is a branch of a peach-tree that has pulled out its fastenings to the wall, and that is flapping about in the wind. Or there is a drawer of papers which has been for weeks in great, confusion; or a division of your bookcase where ths books might, be better arranged. See to these things forthwith: the out-of-doors matters are the best. Get ),o-,ir your people, if you have halt-a- dozen—and go forth and see these things made tidy and bee that they are done thoroughly; work half done will not serve for our present purpose. Let eVelY neltie be cut down and carried off ri-om the neglected corner; then let the ground be dug up and levelled, and sown with grass seed. If it rains, so much the better; it will make the seed take root at once. Let the wall or fence be made better than when it was new let a wlkel- barrow full of fresh green turf be brought let it be laid down in place of the decayed edging; let it be cut accurately as a watch's machinery let the gravel beside it be raked and rolled then put your hands in YI(jur pockets, and survey the effects with delight. All this will occupy you, interest you, dirty you, for a couple of I hours,and you will come in again to your library fire- side quite hopeful and cheerful. Tbe worry and depres- sion will be entirely gone; you will see your course beautifully you have sacrificed to the good genius Ti- diness, and you are rewarded accordingly. I am simply slating phenomena, reader. I don't. pretend to expiaiu causes but I hesitate not to assert, that to put things right, and to know that the tlllngs are put right, !tas a wonderful effect in enlivening and cheering. You cannot tell why it is so but you come in a very different man from what you were when you went out. You see things in quite another way. You wonder bow you could have plagued yourself so much before. Possibly Mr. Disraeli would not be content out of office, however orderly everything about his estate and man- sion might be. Yet it is upon record that a certain ancient emperor who had ruled the greatest empire this world ever s iw, found a pleasant change to lay the sceptre and the crown aside, and, descending from the throne, to take to cultivating cabbages. And as he looked at the tidy rows and the bunchy heads, he de- clared he had cuanged his condition for the better; that tidiness in a cabbage garden could make ;i man happier than the imperial throne of the lloman Empire. It is well that it should be so, as is this world there are many more cabbage-gardens than imperial thrones and tidi- ness is attainable by many by whom empire is not at- tainable. If tidiness be important everywhere, what must it be in the dwellings of the poor? In these, so far itS my experience has gone, tidiness awl morality are always in direct proportion. You can see at once, when you enter a poor man's cottage (always, with your hat off my friend), how his circumstances are, and generally how his character is. lf the world is going a gainst him if h ird working and constant pinching w?!| liardlv ge^ food and clothing for the children, you see the fact in the untidy bou-,(> the poor mistress ot it has no heart for that constant effort which is needful in the cottage keep things right; she has no heart for the constant stitching which is needful to keep the poor little chil- dren's clothes on their backs. Many a time it has made my heart sore to see, in the relaxation of wonted tidi- ness, the first indication that things are goitv amiss, that hope is dying, that the poor struggliUJf pur are feeling that their heads are getting under water at last. Ah, there is often a sad significance in the hearth no longer so cleanly swept, in the haudle wanting from the chest of drawers, in little Jamie's torn jacket which a few stitches would mend, but which I remember torn for these ten days past! And his wife must always have spirit and heart to work. If you choose, when you feel unstrung by some depression, to sit all day by the fire, the house will be kept tidy by the servants without your interf erence. And, indeed, the inmates of a house of the better sort are putting things out of order from morning to night, and would leave the house in a sad mess it the servants were not constantly following in their wake and sotting Hangs to right again. But if the labourer's wife, anxious and weak and sick at heart as she may rise from her poor bed, do not yet wash and dress tije poor ciiild-eii, they will not be either washed or diesscd at all it she do not kindle fire, there will be no fiie at all, it she does net prepare her husband's breakfast, he must go out to his hard work without any ,t she do not make tne beds, aud dust the chairs and tables, and vvas.i the linen, aud do a host of other things they wul not be done at, all.

APPARATUS FOR WORKING RAILWAY B -After the last meeting of the Institute of Civil Engineers, a model, by hr. Hall, of an apparatus, by which railway carriages were coupled together, so as to render the action of the breaks continuous throughout the train, and thus render it possible to apply three or four breaks simulta. iieously, was exhibited. A longitudinal square bar was suspended under each carriage, the connexion being made y a uimeisd jomt coupling. In making up a train, the C'1. oc„^? 0 t e Sleat vans were screwed up close to t le nms o IC wheels, and then the coupling was effected, so as to avoid the possibility of slac^c. The break-blocks were so arranged on the carriages that two operated in eac uc^ um' so t'Jat the carriages might be moved eitner backwards or forwards, indiscriminately but this was not the case with those attached to the tender and the bi-eakvan. ihe mode of applying the power was similar to tnat ordinarily in use. There was a worm- wheel on the spincJe of the handle from the van, working into a cog-wheel, fast on the longitudinal shaft. On this shaft there was also a screw working in a loose collar, to which were attached the ends of one pair of levers, operating the arm of a lever, on a fixed shaft, also carrying the levers to which the blocks were attached.

(6ttttrat eu. EXTRAORDINARY OprRATIO.N.-One of the most wonderful cures (so wonderful in fact that we should feel inclined to doubt its accuracy, were we not informed upon the most undeniable authority), that the records of the veterinary art contain has lately been performed by Mr. George Holmes, of Beverley, veterinary surgeon. The animal operated upon was a valuable black horse belonging to Mr. Metcalf, of Walkington Wold, which was suffering from water on the chest, and from which Mr. Holmes succeeded in extracting the enormous quan- tity of 15} gallons of water in one drawing This extraordinary operation was performed with perfect suc- cess without a second operation being necessary, and, al- though only a short time since, the horse is perfectly well, and it would be difficult to detect that anything has ever been the matter with it, or that any operation has been performed in fact, the horse is doing all the ordinary work with the rest of the team, and has regained its condition to the fullest extent. This is the only instance on record where such an operation has been performed with any degree of success-how the animal had lived with such an enormous quantity of water on the chest was sufficiently extraordinary-we are informed that he was fast drowning; but the fact of its being extracted, without the slightest injury, is positively wonderful.— Manchester Guardian. FATAL POACHING AFFRAY IN CHESHIRE.—On the night of Saturday last, a lamentable affair happened on the lands of Mr. H. Akroyd, a magistrate of the county, living at Doddington, near Nantwich, Cheshire. Oa Saturday night the keepers and watchers, to the number of six, went out, and soon after midnight they beard sounds of poachers. They went in the direction of the sounds, and found four men, two of whom were dragging nets for game. The keepers immediately seized those men, when the others fired from different directions, and the charges lodged in two of the watchers. James Beech was hit in the abdomen, and lingered until six o'clock on Monday morning; anc Thomas Maddock, another watcher, was shot through the left breast and killed instantly. Both the men who fired got away, but the police are on their track. The watchers were re- spectively 23 and 30 years old, and unmarried. AN EXECUTION IN AMERICA.—Early as ten o'clock on the 12th of November, about 80 persons, who had been furnished with tickets of admission by the sheriff, were awaiting the time of execution within the walls. With- out, a large crowd, some 800 or 900, had collected. The hour of execution was fixed by Sheriff Willet at half- past eleven o'clock, and at that time there were about 100 spectators within the prison. At the time appointed the deputy-sheriff, deputed for the office, entered the cell of the condemned and pinioned hitr, Hudgers said he was glad that the hour had arrived, and assisted as far as pos- sible in the preparation for his death. He showed no trepidation. Even when he joined in the responses of the service for the dying, when the priests knelt and he attempted to kneel and was unable to do so, because the rope around his neck restrained him, he did not flinch for one instant. He looked tickly, the conse- quence of 13 months' confinement in a narrow cell, but otherwise he might have been supposed a spectator ra- ther than the chief actor in the scene. At 22 minutes before twelve o'clock, the rope was cut. For nearly a minute he swung around and vibrated to and fro, from the force of the ascent and the corresponding force of the fall. Then he commenced to struggle, and for eight III i- nutes his quiverings were fearful. He so far loosened his right aIm from the rope which pinioned him that lie was able to thrust his hand within his shirt-bosom, where lie tore at his heart, as if there was the seat of all his pain. He had probably no consciousness—the doctors said the action was merely muscular and involuntary, but it was sickening to behold. After eight minutes his pulse ceased to beat. After hanging 40 minutes he was lowered and deposited in a plain stained coffin. His brother and a male i-elative-his brother-in-law, as was undemtood-entered tho yard while be was suspended and received his remains. And then a terrible scene oc- curred. His mother, sister, brothers were in the prison, awaiting the custody of his remains. On the coffin con- taining the body being brought into the outer yard, they threw themselves upon it, and the spectacle that followed was too harrowing for description. The face of the de- cease!, which was horribly contorted, was exposed, but they bent over it, kissing the swollen lips, from which the tongue protruded, till finally one after the other fainted, and the oldest habitues of the Tombs had to re- tire, unable to bear the seene.-New York Times. SPECIAL EVENING SERVICE AT ST. PAUL'S.—For the first time in the history of the cathedral church of London, the largest portion ol its interior space was used on Sunday evening for the celebration of Divine wor- ship. The arrangements have been for some time in progress, and, as tested by this first experiment, proved very successful; nothing could exceed the good o"der with which the immense congregation was seated with- out these arrangements, well carried out, it would have been impossible to avoid a confusion alike unfitting the place and purpose. As it was, the very regulations that insured such quiet and good order inside the cathedral gave rise to some dissatisfaction without, among the crowd who could not gain admission. The announce- ment of the series of special services has excited even more interest on the part of the public than was antici- pated not more than a fraction of the throng of persons that pressed round the western entrance of the church- yard, anxious to be present at the service, could be ad- mitted. At six o'clock the upper part of Ludgate-bill was blocked up by the mass of belated and disappointed expectants, and it required some active exertion on the part of the police to keep a space clear barely wide euough for the diminished number of Sunday vehicles to pass. The cathedral was even then full to the utmost numuer the seats provided would accommodate. The legulation by which the doors were closed as soon as all the seats were appropriated was strictly enforced con- sequently there were a great number excluded who did not bear the disappointment with perfect equanimity. But it would have bjen quite impossible to admit a fourth of the crowd that had gathered round the cathedral. The whole space beneath the dome is lighted in the same manner as on the occasion of the funeral of the Duke of Wellington; a circle of small jets of gas runs round the cornice, a succession of miuuie beads of light so close that they appear to the eye as one luminous ring. There is no dazzle or glare, and as the light de- scends, softened by distance, the effect is very pleasiug. The pavement is covered with a matting of kainptulicon, on which the feet fall in silence, and the whole space within the nave and transepts is filled with chairs. The pulpit is placed at the eastern corner of the south transept beneath it are the seats of the Dean and Chapter. The choristers are stationed in the eastern nave, in front of the organ. The reading desk is in ad vance of the choristers, directly opposite the western nave. The lessons of the evening service for the day were read by the Very Rev. Dean Milman, the prayers by the Rev. W. C. F. Webber, minor canon. The choir greatly augmented for the occasion, numbered 500 voices' divided into 200 trebles and altos, 150 tenors and 150 basses. The whole body has been selected aù trained within the past month by Mr. Martin, the master of the cVioir. ine responses were sung to the music of Tallin the Psalms of the day to single chants by Tallis'and rU'va^nft H T"^ Taftt,r the First>*nd theiW dmittts after the Second Lesson were Riven with double chants. Ihe sermon was preached by tho Bishon of YSpirst En"^ T u' V(U'Se 0t lst «**Pter of the Iirst Epistle to the Corinthians—" Waiting for the commg of our Lord Jesus Christ." S,A,NiriUrr'P with ^ls and down with books! is a cry that might be heard any hour of the day in Spain, it any one there ever thought of books at all. 11inters having gone down before picadors--and the trade in letters being all save at an end-Spanish works are getting rare and dear. The best are in England or America and like a picture at the great time, whenever one turns up it is incoiitiiieutly put on board the Tag us ox Alhamora and shipped to London, where, to the sui- prise ot natives, such old rags as a Castil.an would give ° U]'' 011»S far more than their weight in g<n • On \v eduesday, for instance Messrs. Futtickandbimpson sold a few rare Spanish tracts amongst them were the toilowing Historia muy verdadera de dos Amantes, poi Eneas Silvio, J 512, £ 10.—La Historia del muy vahente y esforcado Oavailuro Clamades, 1521, iUG.-Tratado de Arnalte y Lucenda, 1522, £ 11 — Juan de Fiores, Historia de Grisel y ilirabella 1524 £ ii 5s.—RefranesGlosadas, Carcei de Amor, V Diegc, de Sant-Pcdro, 1525, £ 1! 10s- None of these exceeded a few leaves each. They would scarcely have served to light a pipe, and they fetch more pesetos than would buy the best box in the Plaz^ do Toros for a whole year,-Áthmœum. I. MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC NOTPS.-I t is expected that Madame Jenny Goldschmidt (Jenny Lind) will appear next summer at the Philharmouic Concerts, Liverpool. Herr Wilhelm Ganz has returned from his artistic tour in Germany, where he has played on several occasions with the greatest eclat.— Giuglini, the tenor, who has been creating a furore at Turin, is about to proceed to the Royal Opera at Madrid, where his appointments are said to be enormous.-M. Meyerbeer's new work, without a chorus, provisionally called Dinorah," has been put into study at the Opera Comique, Paris. M. Berlioz is said to have finished the grand opera on the Siege of Troy, for which he himself has written the libretto. M. David's Last Days of Ilerculanoum" is in rehearsal at the Grand Opera.—The Italian Opera is now in full season, with Grisi, Mario, and Alhoni. Mario has £ 600 per month, Alboni £500, while Tamberlik is to have XI,600 for seventeen nights !—DRURY LANE.—The success of the" Bohemian Girl," reproduced here, is complete. The acting and singing of Mr. Harrison were very spi- rited. His improvement in the histrionic art is really very remarkable. He is by turns light, gay, or forcible in his assumptions of character. On Monday he took his benefit, and sang in" II Trovatore." Miss L. Pyne was admirable as Arline-, her assumption of simplicity and dignity were vocally and histrionically perfect.—In addition to the societies and singers which were announced as about to open their doors and their mouths forthwith, we may mention the Vocal Association, conducted by M. Benedict. It has been said that at one of its concerts during the coming season a secular Cantata, by Mr. Lindsay Sloper, will be produced—the words to which are by Mr. Henry F. Chorley.—In point of older novelty, Mr. II. Leslie seems disposed to stir by aJventuring among the Motetts of Sebastian Bieli, one of which is to be produced at the first meeting of his choir. We un- derstand, too, that the performance of Mr. II. Leslie's 'Judith" will take place in London during the season.— It is with regret that we must continue the bad accounts of Herr Ernst's health, which affords little hopes of his being able to resume his career as a player, for the pre- sent at least. It is fortunate for the lovers of great violin playing that Herr Joachim is in his prime, and in extraordinary (not too extraordinary) favour here—since the alternatives are not too many.—We have not seen the American papers so unanimous about any question of Art, at least, as some dozen which have been forwarded to us, devoted to Mdlle. Piccolomini, whose appearance at the New York Opera is described to he-what it must ever be-a failure in the ears of all who demand that a singer shall sing. Those who manage such matters bf- forehand, had issued seisation tickets," in which the agony of expectation was to be piled up to an Olympus not thought of before. The public were made acquainted with the precise moment when the Cardinal's relative would step on the stage as La Traviata, and were told, that if not ready to receive her, they would not be allowed to take their seats till after she had sang the Brindisi." But the public, whether shut out or let in, seem to be agreed with the Athenaum, that Mdlle. Piccolomini— Mr. Landor's "triumphant Piccolomini"—however tri- umphant, is no singer, and thus is unfit to succeed to Malibran, Madame Goldschmidt, Sontag, Mesdames Alboni and Grisi-to any great opera vocalist, in short, who has succeeded in America.—Ilerr Formes, we ob- serve, is singing again in opera at New York.—Madame Celeste, at the Standard, has been playing Ze Liable in the humorous drama of Satin.At the Pavilion, M I. Rayner has been acting in Othello and Macbeth.—The pantomime which Mr. Harrison purposes producing at Christmas, at Covent Garden theatre, is being written by Mr. Bridgeman aud Mr. Sutherland Edwards, and will be entitled "Little Red Riding Hood."—Signor Ludovic Gi'uziani has added another leaf to his already imperishable laurels by his extraordinary success in "II Giuramento:" besides receiving three encores, he was called repeatedly before the proscenium of the Italian Opera in Pans.—Signor Badiali, who appeared hst sea- son ill Italia Opera, at Drury-lane, is engaged for five years at the Itapet-ial Opera, at Paris.-A young and ac- complished vocalist, Mdlle. Sarolta, will shortly make her appearance at the Italian Opera. She is said to possess a voice resembling Grisi's on her first appearance. Signor Silva, the celebrated basso, has created a sen- sation ,U Turin, in Robert le -Diable.Ildlie. Weiss,,t, a young and highly accomplished prima donna, will ap- pear in London next season.—Signor Mongini, the tenor singer, is at St. PeLeisburgli, drawing crowded houses. Mons. Clazado, the manager at Paris, who had engaged the services of an English stage manager, to produce verdi s opera of Macbeth," has withdrawn it, in con. sequence of theenoriiious outlay required.—Mons. Jullien has concluded an engagement with Lady Bishop, the celebiated vocalist, who will make her first appearance at the Lyceum, on Tuesday, December 14th. We under- stand the emolument she receives to be enormous. LITERARY INOTIS. -A young man of letters, Mr. M y Thomas, has just completed an investigation de novo int > the story of Richard Savage. The result is that lie "as an impostor—not, as lie pretended, the son of L rd Rivers at all, but a simple trader on the false as- sumption that he was. This discovery will appear, fully developed, in Notes and Queries.—Preparations for the erection of the HU1 Miller monument at Cromarty, have been commenced at Cromarty, and Wednesday has been fixed for the laying of the foundation-stone.—Ano- ther well-known litterateur and journalist, Mr. Samuel Carter Hall, is about to swell the already long list of author lecturers.—A stirring but troubled spirit has just been ordered out of Berlin, Ivan Golovine, a name not unknown in Russian politics. The gentleman objects to his removal.—A People's Edition" of the Miscellaneous Works of the R"v. Sydney Smith, including his contribu- tions to the Edinburgh Review, is announced by Messrs. Longman for early publication. It will be uniform with tho People's Edition of Lord Macaulay's Critical and Historical Essays."—It has been stated that Mr. Dickens gains by .his readings ten thousand a-year, the writer forgetting, however, the enormous expense of bills and advertising, and the hire of rooms, music-halls, &c. The present provincial tour of readings has closed. Mr. Dickens will read the Christmas Carol" at St. Martin's Hall, on Christmas Eve, and again on Boxing night. It is probable that he will occupy himself in writing a work a short book, which he will not uublish for a ln" time' but will give readings of it to the public. Such a work; ftesli from the author's brain, when we should not have time to picture to ourselves warped versions of the cha- racters, but should accept them direct from him who gave them being, would, indeed, be a treat. IRIAL FOR DESERTION.—Thomas Tole, a private in the 7th Royal Fusiliers, was tried by Court-martial, at Chatham, on Friday, for having deserted to the Russians when serving before Sebastopol. Tole's defence was that he was captured whilst on out-post duty but the soldiers who had been prisoners affirmed that they had met him in various places in Russia, and he was always regarded as a deserter, and as such enjoyed certain privi- leges of diet denied to prisoners of war. The decision of the Court will not be made known until it has been submitted to the Commander-in-Chief. THREE ROGUES PUNISHED.—On Thursday three severe sentences were inflicted by the Central Cnminal Court. Lewis, a bankrupt draper, was condemned to six years' penal servitude for carrying oft his money and books to America, thereby defrauding his creditors. Lewis had given up the money in New York, in the belief, fostered by some American lawyer's opinion, that he had thereby freed himself from liability to punish- ment. He returned to England and found out his mis- take. Zicker, a jeweller, was sentenced to the same punishment for making false entries in his books, and giving false evidence in the Bankruptcy Court. Finally, William Lemon Oliver, stockbroker, who applied some money entrusted to him by a ladv for investment to his own use, was sentenced to 20 years' penal servitude. THE ACCIDENT AT LORD Bl{ADFORD's.-The Globe of Saturday evening says:—We regret to announce the death ot Lady Charlotte Bridgeman, wLo was severely burned by accident at Lord Bradford's residence some weeks ago. She died on Friday last. Lidy Lucy Bridgeman is still suffering from the effects of the acci- dent. Neither the Earl of Bradford nor Viscount New- port have been able to uso their hands since the lamenta- ble occurrence. ACCOMMODATION FOR THE IRON TRADE AT LIVER- POOL.—The Staffordshire ironmasters and dealers engaged in the trade have memorialised the Mersey Docks Board upon this subject, and have requested that some space be allotted to the,, in the vicinity of Wellington or Bram- lev Moor Docks, in order to form a depot for iron brought from the interior and intended for export. The memorial was read at the meeting of the Board on Thurs- day, and referred for consideration, several members ex- pressing an opinion that there could be no objection to grant the accommodation if the trade would p&y a suita- ble rent. STOLEN DESPATCHES.—It will be remembered that considerable sensation was created a short time ago by the publication in the Daily News of Sir John Young's despatch on the Ionian Islands. That journal declined to give up the name of the party who forwarded the despatch, and the Government intimated that every effort would be made to detcot the offender. The mystery i. now likely to be cleared up. At Bow-street Police Court, on Saturday, Wellington Greville Guernsey, or William Hudson Guernsey, who is said to have served either in the Turkish Contingent or in the British army in the Crimea, was charged with stealing from the li- brary at the Colonial Office the despatches. It appeared from the evidence that the prisoner was on intimate terms wi ll Mr. Miller, the sub-librarian, at the Colonial Office. On one occasion, while on a visit to Mr. Miller, he was left; alone in the library, on the table of which were copies of certain important despatches from Sir John Young, in reference to the state of the Ionian Islands. The prisoner, it appeared, had purloined the despatches and forwarded them to the Daily News, in which paper they were afterwards published. The pri- soner, who declined to say anything, was committed for trial. He applied for admission to bail, which was refused. FROST STORM.—A curious frost-storm" is reported as having occurred at Bradford oa Thursday. "The streets, houses, hedges, and trees, everywhere became encrusted with a thick coating of black ice, as slippery as g'ass." Walking was very difficult: and most cautious persons frequently fell, the mills were short-handed, because the operatives could not go safely to work; even the policemen could scarcely keep on their beats. Three persons died suddenly from fright brought on by falls, and nearly twenty others were taken to the Infirmary with broken limbs. JOliN CLAY.—"Died at Leamington, after a few days' illness, the Rev. John Clay, aged 62." Such are the few words that, in a corner of the daily paper, tell us of the removal of a good man and useful public servant. John Clay's labours as a Prison Chaplain are known far beyond the circle in which efforts like his are commonly dis- cussed. His Annual Reports on Preston Gaol were models of investigation and record hand-books for Par- liament and the press, on crime, on thesins of great cities, on the efflcts of ignorance in the poor; filled with minute facts and acute observations, yet warmed intophilosophic life by generous sympathies and solid generalization.— Athenaeum. SLEEPING RAILWAY CARRIAGES.—The Great Western Rail way of Canada is about to place three sleeping cars upon the line between Windsor and the Suspension Bridge. The cars externally resemble the ordinary ones, but are hung on the English system inside they are divided longitudinally by a partition, and against this there are on each side three tiers of berths; the one side intended for gentlemen, and the other for ladies and children. The space between the berths and windows is furnished with a row of single seats. The berths are fitted with spring mattresses and pillows, both covered with damask, and quilts. Means for washing are pro- vided, and a servant will be in attendance to wait on the travelleis, clcan boots, &c. The charge for this accom- modation will be half a dollar in addition to the ordinary fare, which no one can grudge who knows the misery of ordinary night travelling by railway. Each car can accommodate 36 persons. LAMENTABLE ACCIDENT.—.A shocking accident, occuri ed at Northorpe-station, about seven miles from Gainsboi otigh, oil the Manchester, Sheffield, and Lincoln- shire Railway, last week, by which the station-master, Mr. John Lewis, lost his life. The line crosses the road on the level at the place in question, and a horse and "■-ere standing near an open gate, leading to the rails, when a goods train from Hull caine up, the noise of which affrighted the animal, and the deceased, appre- hending that it would get on the line, rushed out to save it; but before he could get accross the rails, he was struck by the advancing engine and hurled to a distance of several yards He was picked up in an insensible state, scarcely breathing, his body being frightfully crushed and, although medical aid was promptly obtain- ed, he expired very shortly after the accident. A FRENCH BEAR H UNT.-The inhabitants of Neuville Bose, near Rouen, were about a fortnight ago plunged into great terror by the report that a large bear had escaped from a travelling menagerie, and was prowling in an adjacent wood. Aaming themselves with pitch- forks. clubs, and scythes, the villagers went to the adj acent village of Haie de Calleville, situated at the extremity of the wood, where there children were at school, and, in spite of the remonstrances of the school-. master, carried them off. They refused to allow the children to return, and were almost afraid to leave their own houses. Things continued in this state until Satur- day last, when it was resolved, after much deliberation, that a grand battut should be made, and every man should take part in it. Out accordingly turned every body, and the wood was surrounded. Advancing gradually, the villagers formed at last a somewhat narrow circle' when all at once the cry was raised," There is the bear Immediately all the brave people, except those who happened to he armed with guns, were seized with terror, and iled in all directions, forgetful that the very pupose for which they had assembled was to kill the bear. The men with guns seeing a black animal in the brushwood fired, one after another, and the animal, with a melancholy howl, fell. As he remained quiet some little time, they, though not without trepidation, ap- proachod, and lo found that the much feared bear was a poor dog which had gone astray. A NOTORIOUS BALLAD SINGra.-A deatli has taken place amongst the aristocracy of low life which should be interesting to those of every degree. Henriquet, the senior street singer of Paris, died a few days ago, and was followed to the grave by all the itenerant musicians of the city. This man was ninety-four years of age, and to the very last, possessed a memory, unimpared by age or the hard life he had led. His father was running foot- man to the Count d'Artois, and he was born in a garret of the royal palace, at Versailles, one night, in the midst of the masking and revelry which was habitual to the place, in the jolly days long before the great revolution. He did not relish the restraint of a court life, however, and broke from home to follow some strolling players, who were about making the tour of France, when he was scarcely more than seven years of age. From that period to the time of his death, he gained his living by what he was wont, modestly, to call "his little talents," and choose the profession of ballad singer from the very first. He was on the best of terms with the police, to whose different representatives he had been in the habit of presenting himself every month for the renewal of his licence, during a period of seventy-two years. He had, during that time, sung the charms of Madame du Barry and the virtues of Marie Antoinette-the granduer of the Republic, and the baseness of the Monarchy-then again, the splendour of the Empire, and the meanness of the Bourbons-then, volte-face, the meanness of the Em- pire, and the splendour of the Restoration Louis Dixhuit, Charles Dix, the Parisienne," the Mar- seillaise," Louis Pliillippe down to the Girondins and La mere a Guizot" were all sung by this glorious Apollo of the causeway. His voice, however, growing thicker and thicker with age and absinthe, broke down altogether with the "Abas Ie pere Nicolas," which was the last song given out by the police to the street singers of Paiis at the beginning of the Crimean war. Since that time Henriquet has been living on the gratitude and devotion of his comrades, who have by turns taken care of the old man, while the whole fraternity have given one day's gains out of every month for his support. With this lie has lived well, never wanting for thepouleaupot on Sundays, nor for attendance in his sickness, nor fit ptisans, nor for tobacco. The whole corporation of bal- lad singers and itinerant musicians turned out to follow him to the grave, and it was one of the most curious sights we have seen for many years to benold the long line of ragged mourners, each armed with his hurdy-gurdy or organ, his donkey or dormice, walking, with head bent low, and tearful countenance, behind the hearse, which, with that mjsterious pride which lurks in the bosoms of men ot all classes, had been provided of the second class, like that of an honest bourgeois, who might have lived the most respectable and quiet life in the world. Neither was Heui-iquet condemned to the fosse commune, like any other pauper; but a terrain a perpetuite was bought by the subscription of his fellow- sufferers, and he has as snug a lying at Montmartre as though he had sold cotton nightcaps and woollen stock- ings in the Rue St. Denis all his life.-Paris Correspon- dent to the Sunday Times. A Paris letter in the Nord says:—"There is much talk.111 the Pans salons of a very curious letter written by Lord Brougham on the subject of the prosecution ot Count Montaleinbert-a prosecution which finds DO favour with the celebrated English jurist.